


An Admission to the Hospital

by TheCreatorOfTales



Series: An Admission to Hospital [1]
Category: Wentworth (TV)
Genre: All the soft, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, Fluff, Freakytits - Freeform, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, Protective!Joan, Vera looks after Joan, honestly so much softness, physical injury, soft sapphics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-07
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-03-18 14:14:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28619373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheCreatorOfTales/pseuds/TheCreatorOfTales
Summary: Joan manages to end up in the hospital and calls her wife.Vera loses her mind as she worries, and confuses everyone in Wentworth when she says that her wife is in the hospital.
Relationships: Vera Bennett/Joan Ferguson
Series: An Admission to Hospital [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2108694
Comments: 5
Kudos: 25





	An Admission to the Hospital

“ _Vera, darling, don’t panic but I’m in the hospital. There was an incident with the car at a junction. I’m alright, but it looks like they might need to keep me in overnight, so would you mind bringing me some spare clothes from home? I’ll see you after your shift, I’m at the Royal Melbourne Hospital. I love you.”_

Vera is on her break when she checks the voicemail from her wife. Joan’s voice is hoarse, unlike its usual husky timbre, and she sounds like she’s in pain. What could have happened? Her wife hated hospitals with a passion, avoiding them at all costs, unless she was visiting someone or forced to go. A wave of panic builds in her gut, causing her hands to shake as she puts her empty lunchbox in her locker and slams the door a little too hard, causing Will and Fletch to stare at her. She needed to go. Now. The voicemail had been left three hours ago, just a little while after she’d arrived at work, and she didn’t want Joan to be on her own longer than necessary if she’d been hurt.

But how could she justify needing to leave? Nobody in Wentworth knew of her marriage to Joan, both women agreeing that it would be better to keep it quiet. The board knew of course, they’d had to tell them to ensure that they weren’t accused of anything untoward, but Joan had worried that the inmates would treat Vera badly if the news came out. Which meant she couldn’t slip away with a simple excuse in situations like this. Everyone knew that her mother was dead, so she had no excuse on that front either. But she _needed_ to go to her wife’s side, she knew how much Joan hated the place.

“You okay there Vera?” Will asks with concern, his sandwich half raised to his mouth.

“I’ve got to go.” Her tone is sharp, as she stalks to the sink, slamming her empty mug and rinsing it quickly, leaving it on the side to dry, a habit she hates to do usually. The two other officers watch her actions, sharing a glance as they notice her sudden rush. “Will, are you alright if I leave early? Linda will be here in an hour, as well as Steph so you would only be down one officer for two hours, maximum.”

Will nods, noticing the stressed look and wild eyes on Vera’s face, but not understanding the reason why she suddenly looked like that. “Vera, we’ll manage, but if you don’t mind me asking, are you okay? Has something happened?”

“I have to go to the hospital.” Her tone indicates to Will that she doesn’t want to elaborate on it, however, unluckily for her, Fletch is there too, and doesn’t have a large understanding of taking a bloody hint. Vera continues to pack up her things, opening her locker again to reach in for her bag. 

“Why’d you need to go to hospital? Have you hurt yourself? Did an inmate hurt you? Vera!” Fletch voices his worry, his volume getting louder with each word. Despite their humiliating encounter nearly two years ago, Fletch had always continued to pay extra attention to the Deputy Governor, despite her kind attempts to dissuade him. Vera didn’t know why he didn’t get the hint and thought perhaps the man was being deliberately obtuse. Will tries to frantically motion to him with his hand to stop and just leave it alone, but the other man takes no notice.

“You don’t need to know, Fletch.”

“Seriously, have you hurt yourself?” Fletch walks over to her, reaching his hands out as if to try and touch her, something Vera definitely did _not_ want to happen. She stepped back with an uncomfortable look on her face and pulled her bag onto her shoulder, walking over to the radio charging station. She unhooked hers and clicked it into position, the light turning green to indicate that it had begun to charge. Fletch followed behind her.

“Vera!”

“Fletch, right now I am NOT in the mood to deal with your need for gossip, alright? My wife is in the hospital, I don’t really know why and I need to go and find out that she’s okay. Now drop it.” Vera grabbed her jacket, nodded at Will and stalked out of the room, leaving both men with their mouths open at the implication that the deputy was married and they’d had no idea.

Fletch turned to Will who’d dropped his sandwich in shock. “She’s married? Who’s she married to? She said wife, didn’t she? She married a woman? How could she marry a woman, she isn’t a lesbian.”

“Well, if she’s married a woman Fletch, she obviously likes girls in some way.” Will tried to reason with his friend. He knew that Fletch had continuously tried to get back into Vera’s good graces after the incident between them, and saw the effort the man put in to try and get her to go out with him again. He also saw the professional courtesy that Vera gave to Fletch, and was kind in her refusal every time. Maybe if she’d been meaner, Fletch might have gotten the message.

“How could she get married?!”

“Fletch, she doesn’t owe you a fucking thing, man. You had a fling that you fucked up. She’s turned you down and let you know that she isn’t interested in a nice way every time you’ve asked her. Move on, man. She’s married, and happily by the looks of it.” Will picked up his sandwich to indicate that the conversation was over, and he wouldn’t say any more about it. He chewed through the bread and meat as he watched the other man slam around the room, kicking a chair and then almost taking the door off it’s hinges as he rammed it open to exit the breakroom. Will shook his head. He’d text Vera later to let her know that Fletch might ambush her the next time she came in.

Vera was soon in the car and on her way home first to pick up some clothes for Joan. She’d then make her way to Royal Melbourne, anxious to see her wife, oblivious to Fletcher's temper tantrum.

* * *

She tried not to flinch as the doctor stitched the cut in her forehead shut, wincing as she felt tugging at her skin. She _detested_ hospitals, and hoped Vera had received her voicemail.

She’d been incredibly lucky. The lorry had hurtled into the car immediately in front of her on the junction, after it ran through a red light, and she’d ended up stuck in her car between the one behind her and in front. The emergency responders had needed to cut her out of her car, however she hadn’t broken any bones, nor had she been impaled by anything, but the doctors suspected that she’d fractured a few ribs when she slammed into the steering wheel. What she did get was a load of bruises, superficial cuts and a deep cut in her temple that required stitches. Joan would freely admit that when she felt the crush of the car, her first thought was of Vera and what she would do if this killed her.

There was a commotion in the hallway beyond her little cubicle, and the blue paper curtain blocked her from seeing anything. The nurse on the reception who was too full of her own self-importance was trying to tell someone that they couldn’t see a patient. 

“Tell me where my wife is or I swear to God my complaint about your homophobic behaviour will go straight to the board of directors AND the press! We’ll see how long you get to sit on your backside behind the desk after THAT!” Vera had arrived. In the months that they’d been dating, and had married, her confidence had grown by miles.

It sounded like the head nurse had taken over, leading her to the treatment rooms and Vera’s voice got closer until they reached her little space on the ward. Vera yanked back the curtain, her eyes flying to the cut currently being stitched in her forehead as she rushed forward, dumping the duffel bag on the nearby chair. The doctor pulled away for a moment with his instruments, a small smile on his face knowing that a hug between the two women was imminent.

Vera threw her arms around her wife, feeling relieved when Joan’s arms slowly wrapped around her waist, her speed hampered by the IV attached to her hand. Joan was careful to not let the wound on her temple touch Vera, but squeezed her wife all the same. The curly haired woman pulled back to look her in the eyes, and her gaze drifted to her cut.

“I leave you alone to go to work and you end up here. I can’t let you go anywhere, can I?” She joked, watching a smile spread across the black haired woman’s face. Joan was glad Vera was here, she trusted no-one else to have her best interest at heart, and Vera would advocate for her if she suddenly found herself incapacitated. Not that she expected to suddenly be unconscious, but you couldn’t be too careful.

“It wasn’t actually my fault, I just got caught in the crossfire.” Joan shrugged, wincing a little as she felt her body protest to the fact that she’d been thrown around her car earlier. Vera noticed the wince, and pulled back to let her eyes trail over her, from the half stitched cut on her head, moving down to her shoulders and all the way down to her red toenails, which somehow had remained pristine.

“What’s the damage?” She asked, perching on the bed, as the doctor picked up his tools to finish closing Joan’s head wound.

“Well, this cut on her head is the worst thing, and I’ll soon have that sorted out. We’re waiting on x-ray results of her ribs to make sure that she hasn’t broken any of those. We’ve got MRI results on the way to check if there’s any swelling on the brain, she’s got a slight concussion though. Other than that, bruises, small cuts that will heal on their own, a small touch of whiplash and she’s going to feel tender for a while. She was very lucky, Mrs Ferguson. The person in the lorry broke multiple bones, and the person in the car in front of her is currently in emergency surgery.” The doctor finishes off the last stitch, announcing that he was finished. “Your results shouldn’t be too long. If your MRI is clear, then I can’t see why you can’t go home, so long as you promise not to overdo it.”

Vera looked at her wife. “I’ll make sure that she doesn’t. Thank you.” She smiled and nodded at the doctor as he left with a wave. She then leaned in to place a gently kiss on Joan’s lips, aware that the older woman was feeling sore. “You had me worried.”

“I know, I hated to have to tell you over voicemail, but had I called the prison then everyone would have known about it within two hours. The receptionist doesn’t know what discrete means.”

Vera looked at her, a guilty blush rising in her cheeks as she remembered what she’d said to Fletch.

“About that…”

Joan looked at Vera with a knowing look, raising one eyebrow. “You said you needed to go to the hospital didn’t you? Don’t think I didn’t notice that you should still be at work for another four hours.” She watched her wife twitch a little before rubbing her hands. “I’m glad you’re here with me. If they find out we’re married, then we’ll deal with any fallout. It might actually be nice to not have to pretend that I’m not in love with you. Or that your legs look fantastic in your work skirt.”

Vera met Joan’s eyes and smiled gratefully. The older woman knew her wife, inside and out. She knew that she would rush here as soon as she’d listened to the voicemail. “It would be nice to be able to say how great you look in your work uniform, without having to worry about very confused glances.” She squeezed the hand holding hers gently, aware that the IV was digging into Joan’s skin.

“I’m going to put you off work for at least two weeks.” Vera watched Joan open her mouth to protest. “No, you won’t take it easy if you go anywhere near work and you know it.” She watched as the older woman nodded reluctantly. “I’ll even bring some stuff home for you to work on if you need something to keep you busy.”

Joan sighed, but understood her point. If she was physically in work, she would find something to keep her busy, plus the inmates might take advantage if they found out that she’d been injured. Vera kissed her forehead, careful to avoid the newly stitched cut. Joan reached her hand to move her hair out of her eyes, grimacing at the tugging in her hand from the IV.

_She bloody hated hospitals._

Eventually the doctor returned, stating that although she had fractured her ribs, there was no danger of piercing a lung. Vera sighed in relief when he stated that the MRI was clear as well.

“I’m happy to discharge you, Mrs Ferguson. I want you to take at least two weeks off from work, and call your doctor for a check up before you return. If you get any sudden bouts of unconsciousness, come right back in, alright?” Vera took the prescription for painkillers for the whiplash, and the soreness that would no doubt grow over the next few days and tucked it in her handbag. The two women thanked him, although Joan swore like a sailor under her breath when he removed the IV from her hand, making Vera hide a giggle behind her hand.

“I’m probably going to need a hand to get dressed.” Joan admitted has she swung her legs to hand off the bed and winced as her muscles pulled. Vera smiled and grabbed the duffel bag, opening it to grab her wife’s favourite pair of black yoga pants and a soft grey v-neck sweater. She placed both on the bed and stepped forward to help Joan out of her ruined shirt. She tried not to focus on the blood from the cut on her head and the other little cuts that littered her body. Noticing that Joan was scrunching her face in pain when she tried to move her neck, Vera gently lifted the shirt over her head.

_Jesus, she was black and blue!_

Joan had bruises beginning to show all along her torso, which were beginning to darken. Vera could tell that they would darken further over the coming days, and would only become more painful as they did so. Vera leaned forward to kiss a small bruise on Joan’s collarbone, making the older woman whisper that she was alright. The younger woman pulled the sweater over her wife’s head, gently leading each arm through the sleeves. Whilst helping her put on the yoga pants, Vera noticed the marks around Joan’s hips and her legs, showing where the crushed car had dug into her body. Vera dumped the ruined clothes in the rubbish bin along the wall, and the pair slowly made their way towards the pharmacy in order to fill the prescription that the doctor left.

Eventually the two were sat in Vera’s car, speeding towards their home, Joan’s head resting back against the headrest with her eyes closed. The radio provides a low hum of background noise, neither woman needing to speak, enjoying the silence, knowing that talking wasn’t needed.

Joan’s hand rested on Vera’s thigh, as if she needed physical touch to keep herself grounded.

Vera simply covers her hand with her own.

* * *

When they arrive home, Joan is ushered up to their bedroom, to settle into bed and to relax whilst Vera made her a cup of tea. She grouched at her, but there was no heat in it and Vera knew it. She shuffles onto the bed until and fidgets until she can get into a comfortable spot that doesn’t irritate any of her injuries. She leans her head back, and closes her eyes, sighing.

Vera’s quiet footsteps make her open her eyes as she hears the clink of her favourite mug being placed on the bedside table, and then feeling the bed dip next to her.

“I really, really, really want to put pyjamas on but it means that I have to move. And moving hurts.” Her voice is dangerously close to whining, and Vera knows it as she smirks at her. She lifts a hand and gently places it on Joan’s cheek.

“Come on, let me take care of you.”

Vera pulls her upright, gently and very slowly. Vera fills her in on things that had happened during the morning as she slowly strips the sweater away from Joan’s torso, trying not to grimace at the already purple bruises.

“How bad?”

Vera meets her eyes, and offers a reassuring smile. “Fairly purple, but they’ll heal. Besides you’re gorgeous and you know it. Car accident or no.”

The sweater is thrown into the corner, in the vague direction of the laundry basket and Vera unclips her bra, pulling it down her arms and flinging it in the same corner as the sweater. She slips the satin camisole of Joan’s pyjamas over her head and once she’s pulled it down over her middle, together they work to remove the yoga pants. Vera helps her step into the long pyjama trousers, made of the same satin material, and she settles the bottoms on Joan’s hips.

Within 15 minutes, Vera is in her own pyjamas, her work uniform joining her wife’s clothes in the corner, Joan has taken her medication to dull the worst of the nagging pain from her injuries and the two of them are snuggled together under the blankets of her bed.

Joan has her head on Vera’s shoulder, dozing as the painkillers kicked in and Vera rests her cheek on the top of her head.

“I love you.” She whispers and plants a kiss on her forehead, mindful of Joan’s stitches.

“Love you too.” Joan murmured, her breath evening out as she fell asleep, unable to keep her eyes open. She sluggishly wraps her arm around Vera’s waist, tugging herself closer to her and settling in against her side.

Vera, deciding that she wasn’t going anywhere, decided to let herself rest next to her wife, and bask in the fact that she was alive and well, next to her.

**Author's Note:**

> A little soft something that was in my Work-In-Progress file on my laptop! 
> 
> I love writing these two when they're soft!
> 
> As always, thank you for your support of my works!


End file.
